


First Comes Marriage

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Rhys as Jack's PA, fake engagement, kind of, youll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 08:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Jack and Rhys have a discussion about their future.





	First Comes Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> Just some fluff based on some wedding prompt I took awhile back haha.

Rhys had mixed feelings about the little reading alcove set up in Jack’s office. At first, he’d been happy to see its return from the unsightly—and, gruesomely—seldom cleaned airlock bay. As much fun as Jack had jettisoning those who crossed him out into the void to watch them float amongst the space debris, a well-placed bullet did the trick most of the time, and even someone as bombasticas Jack sometimes grew tired of the fanfare and preferred quicker kills.

So the small nook in the corner of Jack’s office had returned, and though most of the books lining the shelves were fake or contained nothing but blank pages, Rhys often found himself curled up on one of the soft chairs in lieu of his desk, doing work of his own or taking a nap or browsing the ECHOnet.

It was relaxing and a nice place to zone out when he needed it—at least until Jack decided to use it as an impromptu meeting spot where Rhys could be easily cornered.

Today had been fairly mundane. Enough so that Rhys felt more than comfortable to cut his workload a little early and hunker down in his favorite of the plush chairs clustered around the little coffee table. In fact, he ended up so relaxed, spacing out as he browsed aimless lifestyle articles on his ECHOeye, that he didn’t notice the footsteps behind him until Jack’s hands slid over the back of the chairs and came to rest on both sides of his neck.

Rhys tensed in surprise, but Jack’s touch on his shoulders felt nice. He could hear the alpha breathing behind him as his fingers rubbed down to Rhys’ upper arms and back up. Rhys knew it was coming as he heard Jack exhale in a deep sigh, but enjoyed the momentary massage before he spoke up.

“So. I wanted to talk about something.”

“Oh?” Rhys tilted his chin back, nearly coming nose to nose with Jack, who’d arched over the back of the chair like a sneaking predator. His brows knitted together as Jack brushed his lips between them, before circling around to take the seat besides the omega. He scooted closer, chair legs scraping against the steel floor and rucking up the edge of the heavy carpet as he placed a solid hand on Rhys’ knee. The omega sighed, shutting off his ECHOeye and giving Jack his full attention.

“Lay it on me, though you know my attention kind of goes out the window once I hole up in here.”

“Ah, but it makes you a little more agreeable.” Jack rubbed his hand up Rhys’ thigh and back down to his knee, just slow enough to get Rhys wondering whether Jack just wanted to get a little frisky before they broke for the evening. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been fucked in Jack’s office. Actually that’s where they usually did the deed—Jack hardly ever took him up to the penthouse, and straight-up refused to hunker down in the little apartment the omega shared with Vaughn.

“So?” Rhys pulled his knees up to his chest, casually balling up atop the chair and ignoring Jack’s slight whine at the loss of contact. “What do you want me to agree to?”

Rhys had come to expect a lot of strange things from Jack. One didn’t get to be the CEO of Hyperion without picking up a couple eccentricities along the way, and Jack had those in violent spades. He thought himself well versed in the alpha’s nature.

But the very last thing he’d expected Jack to do was slide down to one knee and take his hand in his own with a shockingly  _earnest_  look on his face that had Rhys’ heart suddenly leaping out of his chest.

“You ever thought about getting married, sugar?”

And honestly—yeah, Rhys had thought about the idea a couple of times. Their relationship could hardly be classified as purely professional to anyone but the densest Claptraps in the station. It was an open secret amongst the rank and file that he and Jack were bumping uglies, a fact that put him in danger as many times as it’d earned him a free drink or a congratulatory smack on the shoulder and suggestive eye waggle. But he was the one still here, wasn’t he? The one still getting fucked by Jack while the bodies of everyone that’d tried to mess with him littered the cosmic landfill.

However, though Rhys had thought about it and even broached the subject once, Jack had never seemed all that receptive. That one time he’d brought it up Jack had treated Rhys more like he’d said something funny than anything with a shred of weight to it. And Rhys had nervously laughed it off as such at the time, but now that Jack was here, flagrantly asking if he wanted to not even bother with keeping their open-secret a secret anymore, he felt put on the spot, caught up in his thoughts as he tried to respond.

“You’re…you’re serious. You want to get  _married_?”

“Well,  _yes_  and no.” Jack kept Rhys’ hand sandwiched between his hand, gracefully petting his knuckles. “You know me. Kind of burnt out on the whole getting tied down thing. But a solid power couple is good for business. News of Handsome Jack’s engagement and wedding will make headlines all around the galaxy and boost the hell out of Hyperion’s stock.”

“I see. So you’re taking relationship advice from your board of directors, now?”

“I don’t need any advice, kiddo, I already know how to get people talking about your brand.”

“With a wedding?”

“Come on, I know you. You won’t wanna give up a chance at a fancy party.” Jack lifted his knuckles to his lips, breathing over them a moment before placing a kiss. “Remember the last fiscal-year-end gala?”

Rhys didn’t, thanks to the copious amount of celebratory cocktails he’d drunk in celebration of the somewhat stressful final quarter. All the hard work spent managing Jack’s moods as well as the mechanics of a multi-billion dollars company had paid off with record growth, and Rhys had taken the moment to properly indulge and make up for all the times he’d had to turn down Vaughn and Yvette’s invitations out. So little had remained in the cache of his memory aside from endless sparkly gold alcohol and the sour cough of his liver begging him to stop, capped up with the fuzzy sensation of Jack’s hands and dick inevitably rubbing against him.

Not that his lack of memory made Jack wrong. Rhys  _did_ like parties. The thought of enjoying a fancy wedding full of food and alcohol and elegant outfits warmed him up to the idea a little more and caused the shock to fade.

“Okay, but…didn’t you just say you weren’t the kind of guy who got tied down. Not anymore, right?”

“And that’s still all true, kiddo, ‘cause like I  _also_  just said, this is mostly for show.”

“For show,” Rhys repeated, nestling his chin between his tucked knees.

“Yep. Nothing has to change between us if you don’t want it to, sugar. I know you’re pretty partial to our current arrangement.”

Their current arrangement being a fairly standard working relationship punctuated by snark and sexual trysts that only truly blossomed once business hours ended. And yes, Rhys did like it—it was the ultimate synergy between the personal and professional and with ambitions like his, fucking one’s boss was the definition of killing two skags with one bullet and making them into a pair of designer boots.

“So is this going to go all the way?” He pressed, eyed tilting down to where Jack still remained in proposing position. “Do I get a ring and a wedding? A brand new suit to match my pretend husband’s?”

“Oh sure” Jack patted the tip of Rhys’ boot in assurance. “We can go  _all_  out, sugar. If we really wanna impress public  _and_  public stock traders alikeit’s gotta be  _big_ and  _expensive_.”

“So, I wonder.” Rhys lips curled mischievously. “Where the ‘for show’ part might come in.”

Jack tilted his head to the side and tapped his neck.

“Well, you won’t have to bond me, for one. We can fake that stuff pretty easy with makeup or a tat if someone starts spreading rumors and causing a fuss. Dunno if I could let my fiancé stay in his crappy little apartment, though. People might get  _suspicious_. Might think you’re cheating on me with the little muscle friend of yours.”

As much as Vaughn disliked Jack—though, like most smart people, he kept that a secret—he’d always been supportive of Rhys’ bid for power and influence and even he couldn’t deny that Jack provided both. It might be a bit of an adjustment to leave his old apartment and shack up in Jack’s penthouse, but well—Vaughn could always visit and secondhand reap the rewards of Rhys’ fake marriage.

Though Rhys wasn’t entirely convinced of how “fake” a marriage could really be between two people who were already actively sleeping together. But if Jack really wanted to keep feelings hands-off, for now, then Rhys could deal with it.

He’d always figured he might have to play the long-game eventually.

“So what say you, pumpkin? You ready to be Mr. Handsome Jack?”

Rhys stretched his legs back out, heels clicking against the floor. Jack instantly leaned forward and folded his hands over Rhys’ thighs, resting his chin atop his tented knuckles. Rhys heard Jack’s joints pop as he switched out of the proposing knee to a more comfortable position.

“ _Mmm._ I’ve gotta warn you, I’m not the best actor. I might just really have to get myself into  _character_  to make this work.”

Jack grinned as Rhys’ fingers combed affectionately through his hair.

“I don’t mind helping you refine your talents, sugar.”

“I’m not so sure  _I’m_  the one who needs refinement.”

Jack snorted.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“You’re right. As my new fiancé that’s  _your_  job.”

“So is that a yes?”

Rhys tapped Jack on the nose, smirking as his nostrils flared at the contact.

“Take me home with you tonight, and you’ll get your answer.”


End file.
